Everyone, who had come, in good spirits, acknowledged that it had been ages since they had such a good time. For the fear of being judged, I agreed too. The jokes ranged from first cigarettes to many of our sexual orientation. I laughed, very confidently, since the ‘mock tail’ spouses who had accompanied some of us seem to be having a good laugh at them as well. Some wise soul from the crowd declared why Little Italy was a perfect place for such a re-union and magnanimously ordered a re-fill for everyone. I repeated my favorite whiskey and added “unadulterated please”. This time the waiter acknowledged it with a wide grin as if he knew my whole past.
I was watching him walk away from our table. That’s when I noticed her. She was sitting in one of the “made for each other” table. On the table was a glass with mostly untouched red wine. Was she staring at it or into the emptiness beyond, I couldn’t tell. Her face amused me. I wondered, what would describe it best, cynicism or melancholy? Subsequently, another important question came to my mind, what would she order next? I was confident that both questions are related. The answer to one of them will lead me to the other. But which one should I solve first? I decided to wait for my next drink.
Lasagna was served at her table.
I kept staring at it for a long time.